A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

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Wasilla

Wasilla is the place where I have lived for the past 29 years - sort of. The house in which my wife and I raised our family sits here, but I have made my rather odd career as a different sort of photojournalist by continually wandering off to other places to photograph people and gather information, which I have then put together in various publications that have served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities.

Although I did not have a great of free time to devote to this rather strange community, named after a Tanaina Athabascan Indian chief who knew Wasilla in the way that I so impossibly long to, I have still documented it regularly over the past quarter-century plus. In the early days, my Wasilla photographs focused mostly upon my children and the events they participated in - baseball, football, figure skating, hockey, frog catching, fire cracker detonation, Fourth of July parade - that sort of thing. 

In 2002, I purchased my first digital camera and then, whenever I was home, I began to photograph Wasilla upon a daily basis, but not in a conventional way. These were grab shots - whatever caught my eye as I took my many long walks or drove through the town, shooting through the car window at people and scenes that appeared and disappeared before I could even focus and compose in the traditional photographic way.

Thus, the Wasilla portion of this blog will be devoted both to the images that I take as I wander about and those that I have taken in the past. Despite the odd, random, nature of the images, I believe they communicate something powerful about this town that I have never seen expressed anywhere else. 

Wasilla is a sprawling community that has been slapped down hodge-podge upon what was so recently wilderness of the most exquisite beauty. In its design, it is deliberately anti-zoned, anti-planned. In the building of Wasilla, the desire to make a buck has trumped aesthetics and all other considerations. This town, built in the midst of exquisite beauty, has largely become an unsightly, unattractive, mess of urban sprawl. Largely because of this, it often seems to me that Wasilla is a community with no sense of community, a town devoid of town soul.

Yet - Wasilla is my home and if I am lucky it will be until I grow old and die. Despite its horrific failings, it is still made of the stuff of any small city: people; moms and dads, grammas and grampas, teens, children, churches, bars, professionals, laborers, soldiers, missionaries, artists, athletes, geniuses, do-gooders, hoodlums, the wealthy, the homeless, the rational and logical, the slightly insane and the wholly insane - and, yes, as is now obvious to the whole world, politicians, too.

So perhaps, if one were to search hard enough, it might just be possible to find a sense of community here, and a town soul. So, using my skills as a photojournalist and a writer, I hope to do just that. If this place has a sense of community, I will find it. If there is a town soul to Wasilla, I will document it. I won't compete with the newspapers. Hell no! But as time and income allow, it will be fun to wander into the places where the folks described above gather, and then put what I find on this blog.

 

by 300...

Anywhere within a 300 mile radius of Wasilla. This encompasses perhaps the most wild, dramatic, gorgeous, beautiful section of land and sea to be found in any comparable space anywhere on Earth. I can never explore it all, but I will do the best that I can, and will here share what I find and experience with you.  

and then some...

Anywhere else in the world that I happen to get to, such as Point Lay, Alaska; Missoula, Montana; Serenki, Chukotka, Russia; or Bangalore, India. Perhaps even Lagos, Nigeria. I have both a desire and scheme to get me there. It is a long shot. We shall see if I succeed.

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Thursday
Jun092011

The lovely, the not so lovely and more lovely

Late last night, a long-anticipated but completely unexpected task arose that kept me going until 3:15 AM and then took up still a bit more time after I arose this morning. The upshot is that I do not have time to prepare the entry that I planned for today - the entry that I anticipated would wrap up my Point Hope wanderings.

So I am going to keep it very simple with a few wandering-Wasilla-by-bike-and-foot images, beginning with this one, which I took the night before I suddenly fell so ill I could not eat anything.

I was out riding my bike about 9:00 or 10:00 PM and it was a beautiful, exquisite night. The air temperature was probably a bit above 50 degrees and the bike breeze felt wonderful against my skin. As I was pedaling fast down the bike trail on Seldon, I saw these three sitting atop the hill ahead of me.

Normally, I would have just snapped off three or four frames as I pedaled past and if I got something, fine, if I didn't, that was fine too.

But the three looked so lovely in the light of the night-time sun that I just had to brake my bike and shoot the picture right.

"You all look wonderful in this beautiful light," I shouted up the hill. "I must take your picture!"

They smiled and said, "thank you."

I took the picture.

"Beautiful!" I shouted up the hill.

"Thank you!" the young woman shouted down to me.

"Thank you," I shouted back to her.

Tuesday, I had felt so rotten that I did not eat, I did not leave the house and I spent somewhere between 16 and 18 hours lying flat on my back and the rest just sitting about in miserable stupor.

I still felt ill Wednesday morning, but was improving. I could not handle oatmeal, but I did scramble some eggs and both Margie and I were able to eat them.

Finally, I stepped into the open air and took a walk. I came upon this scene. At this size, the words scrawled on the 2 x 4 are very hard to read, but if you could see the picture full size then you could clearly and easily read:

"NO TRESSPASS  this Means you I HAVE NO FRIENDS WHEN I'M NOT Home I WiLL KILL."

I do not know these people and do not know what they may have experienced that has put this kind of fear into them, but I do know their dog, although I have not seen it in quite awhile. In my nearly 29 years of wandering about Wasilla on foot bike, and before they built Serendipity and took away my access to the woods, by ski, I have met many, many, many dogs.

Most have been friendly, many have tried to act tough at first but then have proved to be false toughies and a few have been truly mean, nasty, snarly and snappy - but only one has actually bitten me. The dog from this place.

By last night, I was feeling much, much, better and so was Margie. Again, the air was wonderfully cool. I got on my bike and I pedaled as hard and fast as I could down to the Little Susitna, across the bridge and a short distance beyond.

When I came back, I again decided to make a stop instead of a pedal-by-picture and so braked and shot this image from the middle of the bridge.

Normally, I would have been in a hurry to just keep moving and so, even if I had stopped to shoot the scene from the bridge, that would have been it. I would have continued right back on, leaving the couple to enjoy the night alone. Perhaps it was because I suddenly felt well and good after being so suddenly, but thankfully shortly, ill, but now I felt like I wanted to meet this couple, show them the picture I had just taken of them and tell them about this blog.

So I pedaled down to the bank and right up to them.

It was Luke and Lauren, both of Wasilla. Neither had been to this spot on the Little Su, but were glad they had discovered it tonight.

So was I.

I shot this closer scene of them and then pedaled home, so that I could get back to work.

 

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Reader Comments (2)

So glad you are both feeling better.

June 9, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterAnn S.

good to read you both are doing better

June 10, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

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